


The Goose Guy; A Sentinel Fairy Tale

by MrsHamill



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universes, First Times, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 07:32:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsHamill/pseuds/MrsHamill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim tells Blair a fairy tale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Goose Guy; A Sentinel Fairy Tale

**Author's Note:**

> Well, lessee. For Maj, because she's good for my ego and I love her. For Fox, because she reminded me what Mary Poppins said to mouth-breathers, and because I love *her*, too -- even when she makes me cut half the story out. For Christi, even tho she'll prolly never read it (*ducks*). And for all the loverly readers who asked for "Jim's story, now." Thank you, one and all. Oh, and my BlairMuse wants to write The Prince and the Bowling Ball. But I'm not sure I'm going to let him.

* * *

Once upon a time, in a land far away, a widowed queen welcomed her only son and heir back from the university where he had been for many years. While gone, he had grown from a callow youth into a handsome man, and she -- and his familiar, a talking wolf called Shadow, -- greeted his return with joy. 

Prince Blair -- for that was his name -- was glad to be home, and soon settled back into his routine. His mother, Queen Naomi, was glad to see him do so, since he would be king when she was gone and she had feared his time at the university would have jaded him to their small kingdom. But Blair had merely gained knowledge and wisdom beyond his years while away. 

Upon his return, Prince Blair was suddenly deemed an object of possible affection to many a young lady of the kingdom. One in particular, Lady Samantha Wellesley, seemed to be always at his side, but since she was familiar with the Queen and had been friends with the Prince since his childhood, this hardly seemed peculiar. But Shadow, who followed his friend about everywhere Blair went, didn't care for Samantha, and let Blair know it. 

After dinner one night, Blair sat on his favorite sofa with his mother in her private drawing room. Shadow had his head on Blair's lap and was snoring gently. Blair had his feet stretched out to the fire. Happy, relaxed and content, Blair sighed. 

Naomi looked up from her knitting and smiled. "Happy to be home, dear?" 

"Oh, yes," Blair replied. "I know I'll miss the university eventually, but -- well, this is _home_. It's been a long time to be wandering, Mom." 

"I know, sweetie. But you've grown into a better man for it." After a moment, she continued. "You and Samantha seemed to be getting along well." 

Blair laughed. "You, my lovely mother, are trying to get me married. Admit it." 

"Of course I am!" she said, laughing with him. When she went on, though, it was more seriously. "I'm not going to live forever, Blair. And... well, you know we're never going to be a rich country. I'd be pleased, actually, if instead of marrying within, you formed an alliance with a more -- say, prosperous nation." 

Blair frowned and caressed the soft head in his lap. "Is it as bad as that, Mom?" 

Naomi sighed. "Bad? No, not really, not any more than when you left. The castle is in a bit of disrepair; the winter was too mild for a good wool gather; we had a hailstorm last spring that ruined one of the grain silos in Easton and there's no way yet to repair it. But we've never been much on ceremony, and if we have to use blankets that are a few years old, that's fine. Any place the roof leaks, well, we just shut that room off and don't use it. And most of the retainers have been with us forever; payment in room and board is enough for them." 

"But it would be nice to have more money." 

"Yes, of course it would." Naomi sighed and rubbed her eyes. "I didn't want to have this conversation with you yet... I was hoping to wait until you'd settled in more. You've been away for a long time, Blair. I hate to bring up all the problems as soon as you've returned." 

"Well, it's not like you've kept them from me," Blair said softly. "I have all your letters. I knew what to expect. I know you don't want to be queen forever. I just... I just wish I felt more like being a king." 

There wasn't much either of them could add to that, so they fell silent. Naomi went back to her knitting, and Blair to watching the fire. 

* * *

One evening at dinner, with his mother and, of course, Samantha, they were interrupted by the seneschal bringing a letter to Naomi. "It's just arrived by courier from Cascadia, ma'am," he murmured to her, and Naomi frowned. 

Setting her serviette aside, she opened the letter and quickly read it. Blair was watching her out of the corner of his eye, and immediately noticed the frown that grew on her face. "What is it, Mom?" he asked softly. 

"King William of Cascadia has passed on," Naomi said, staring at the missive. "Finally. I think I wrote you that he'd been ill for a long time." 

"Yes, you did." Blair carefully put his glass down. "Will we be sending anyone to the funeral?" he asked. Cascadia was their nearest neighbor, but as their kingdom was isolated by mountains and distance, they were hardly friendly with any other kingdom -- even the rich coastal country of Cascadia. 

After a moment, Naomi blinked and seemed to see him again. "No." She said it decisively. "He sent no one here for... for your father's funeral, so I see no need for representation at his. And he owed us far more than we ever owed him." 

"Owed us?" Samantha's voice was also quiet, but she looked between mother and son curiously. "What do you mean, milady?" 

"There's a rather long story behind that, Samantha," Naomi said wryly. Her gaze went to the large painting of her late husband, which hung on the wall opposite her seat. "Blair was barely out of diapers when the eastern barbarians attacked. I know you've both read about that time, and know that Blair's father fought alongside King William. He was also fairly instrumental in getting the other kingdoms involved in the massed defense. King William wasn't very happy that your father, Blair, was able to unite the kingdoms he could not." 

Naomi's face twisted into a grimace. "William... what a stubborn, insensitive, hard-nosed man. I know it's not good to speak ill of the dead, but honestly. He insisted on taking his son, the crown prince, James, with him to the front. He was only ten or so, and completely unsuited for such a situation. He probably would have taken James' younger brother as well, had Queen Grace not put her foot down. What Grace saw in William, I'll never know..." Naomi shook her head. 

"Anyway," she continued, "during a particularly nasty skirmish, a barbarian managed to break through and run amok in the tents. Blair, your father saved Prince James' life. If he hadn't been there to protect the poor boy, James surely would have died." 

Blair blinked at his mother. "Why haven't I heard this story before?" he finally asked. 

"Oh, I don't know," Naomi mused. "It was a long time ago, and your father was never one for grand-standing. But it made the fact that King William didn't attend his funeral almost a slap in the face. I never did like that man." 

The serving girl appeared at that moment with soup, and Blair found himself being stared at by his mother. Her gaze was pensive, and there was obviously something going on behind her bright, intelligent eyes. To get her attention, Blair deliberately slurped noisily at his soup, and Naomi blinked, then smiled. "You were staring again, Mother," Blair said, his tone severe. 

"Sorry, sweetie," she replied, sipping her own soup. "I was just thinking." 

"I hate it when you do that," Blair complained facetiously. "It usually means I'll have to do something nasty." 

"Stop that," Naomi said, smiling. "If you _must_ know, I was thinking about Prince James. Did you know he has the Gift?" 

Blair's spoon hit his bowl with a clatter. "Ellis' Gift? You're kidding, right?" 

"No, indeed. Prince -- well, soon to be king now, I suppose -- James is a true son of Ellis. All five of his senses are enhanced. It should make him a formidable ruler." 

"Who is his guide?" Blair asked, his mind whirling. He had studied those with the Gift of Ellis at the university. Actually, he had been a bit obsessed with them, and found himself fascinated with their abilities. Those whom the god had touched generally ended up achieving great things... or going mad. There was little in-between. 

"I don't believe he has a guide -- yet," Naomi murmured. "Last I heard, he was still seeking one." 

Picking up his spoon, Blair began to eat again, slowly. "Really." After a moment, he continued. "You know, Mother," he said, studiously examining his bowl, "perhaps we ought to put in an appearance at his coronation. I mean, I can understand not showing for the old king's funeral, but Cascadia _is_ a neighbor of ours. Perhaps we -- or at least one of us -- should attend." 

"Hmm." Naomi concentrated on her soup for a while, not speaking. Blair watched her out of the corner of his eye; he was used to these little dances of theirs. Long ago, when he had been a child determined to do what _he_ wanted to do and nothing else, Naomi had developed a strategy to avoid fighting by appearing to disagree with what she really wanted him to do. Once Blair had cozened to her ploy, he had been amused rather than affronted, and continued the facade. He wondered if she had 'manipulated' her husband, Blair's father, the same way, and felt anew the pang of not knowing that man well before his death. 

It was Samantha -- not aware of their game -- who broke the silence. "I think you ought to go, Blair," she said. "A coronation is simply not to be missed. Cascade is simply so cosmopolitan -- I would simply die to go." 

Naomi and Blair shared a secret smile, and Naomi put her spoon down. "You're probably right, Samantha," she said, then frowned. "However, I don't think I can spare anyone as an escort. It's almost harvest-time, you know, and I spent the last of the budget overage on your escort back from University. So, although I'd _like_ to have you go..." 

"Mother, it's not that far," Blair said mildly. "And I can take care of myself, you know. Plus, I'll have Shadow." 

"But going alone?" Naomi grimaced. "That's hardly politic, Blair. I know we're a small kingdom, but that smacks of a little too small, a little too poor." 

"Cascadia knows us," Blair insisted. "And it'll be a good way to find out about King James, to see if he's as rigid and inflexible as his father apparently was." 

"I could go with him," Samantha added, eagerly. "As his escort, as his page, whatever. The two of us, a pair, presented to his Majesty would look better than just his Highness by himself." She paused and seemed to collect herself, then added, more circumspectly, "Don't you agree, your Highness?" 

Actually, Blair didn't want her to go. But she had a point, and Naomi was right. Reluctantly, he nodded. Naomi still looked troubled. "I almost wish I hadn't brought it up," she murmured. "Let me draft a response, with the proper condolences, and find out when the coronation is," she said as the maid took away their bowls. "We'll decide at that point." 

* * *

The coronation would be in a month's time, right in the middle of harvest. Blair let Samantha handle most of the packing and planning, only insisting on a few books he hadn't had a chance to read. Taking it easy, it was a three day journey to Cascade, the capital of Cascadia; the roads would be good, and Shadow would look out for them. Blair would ride his big gray gelding, Samantha an older, sweet-tempered mare; they would have a mule for their luggage. The night before they left, Blair and Naomi sat in her drawing room before the fire, Shadow once again with his great head in Blair's lap. 

"I can't say I'm not eager to meet James," Blair said. "I've never met anyone with the Gift. It should be fascinating." 

"I just hope James grew up to be more like Grace than his father," Naomi murmured. Her face was pensive as she gazed into the fire. 

"What is it, Mom?" Blair asked. "You've been morose ever since the reply came back from Cascadia. Have you, you know, Seen anything?" 

"No, no," Naomi said, straightening. "I just have a feeling of... well, I don't know. Dread? But it could be just my lovely son leaving me again, after just coming home. I'm sure it's nothing." 

"We'll be all right, you know that, Mom. Shadow will look out for us." Blair fondled the soft ears in his lap, and Shadow sighed in agreement. 

"I know. But... well. I'm going to create a charm for you tonight, for you to carry. Will that be all right with you?" Naomi looked at her son anxiously, and Blair shook his head. 

"Of course it will. Whatever you want, Mother." Her odd feeling of impending doom must have been contagious, for Blair was suddenly overcome with it. Shaking himself, he gently pushed Shadow off and rose, stretching. "I'm heading for bed. Early morning tomorrow. Don't stay up too late, now." 

As Blair kissed her cheek, Naomi smiled. "Yes, dear." 

It was an early morning, before the sun rose, but the sky was promising to be blue and clear. Never a morning person, Blair gratefully accepted a cup of strong tea from Cook before making the final check of his mount and their baggage. Samantha was already in the postern-yard, ready to go. Naomi hugged her son tightly, then took him slightly aside. 

"Here, my love," she said, and handed Blair a lock of her fiery hair, tightly bound in a green ribbon. "I've put a protection charm on it, just in case. It's not that I don't trust you, Shadow," she said to the wolf at Blair's side. "It's just that -- well, it can't hurt." Shadow made a sound suspiciously like a chuckle and rubbed up against Naomi affectionately. "It should keep you safe from unseen perils, while Shadow can concentrate on the seen." 

Blair carefully tucked the lock into the breast pocket of his tunic, smiling at his mother. "Now I know I'll be safe," he said, giving her a hug. 

He turned to see Samantha's eyes watching them carefully. 

* * *

It was most of the first day's trip down from the mountains to the great plain where Cascadia's borders were. They camped a few miles shy of that border, in a stand of elms, well away from the road and near a placid stream. Blair, pretty much used to outdoor camping from both his time at the University and from his month-long trip home, was just going to unroll their bedrolls near the fire and let them sleep outside. Samantha, however, vehemently disagreed with that plan. 

"I brought a pavilion tent for us," she said, imperiously pointing to the pack-mule. "It ill behooves a crown prince to sleep under the sky, Blair." 

"I've done it for years, Sam," Blair replied mildly. "There's no shame in it." 

"Put the tent up, Blair," she demanded, turning away from him. Blair and Shadow shared a look, then, with a sigh, Blair pulled the rippling fabric out of the pack. A low branch provided a prop, and rocks weighed down the ends. It wasn't practical, it would hardly shield them even from the wind, but Samantha seemed to be happier for it. 

"All right, Sam," he said, moving their bedrolls under the dubious protection, "let's go get some water and I'll help you get dinner on." 

Sam just stared at him. "'Help me'?" she asked, blankly. "What in the world are you talking about?" 

Blair gaped at her, then closed his mouth and shook his head. "You've never camped out before, have you, Sam?" he asked. 

"Of course not," she snapped. "What do I look like, some kind of peasant?" 

"What, and _I_ do?" he asked, puzzled. "We're _camping_ , Sam. I didn't bring a servant with us, you know." 

"Yes, I do know, and it was foolish," she said, scowling at him. "But if you insist on acting like a servant, you go right ahead. For I'm certainly not going to help you." 

Opening his mouth to rebut, Blair simply frowned and closed it again. "Never mind," he said, resigned -- but not happily -- to doing most of the work on the trip. He trudged down the short bank to the stream, a bucket in his hand, Shadow, of course, following him. "What is _with_ her?" he muttered, letting the bucket fill with the clear, cold water. 

Shadow chuffed, looking over his shoulder at their campsite. "Don't like that one," he muttered. Shadow would never use a person's name -- or even a pronoun -- if he didn't like the person. "Smells wrong." 

"She's just an annoyance, Shadow," Blair replied, standing with the full bucket. "Apparently she's too big for her britches. I knew it was a mistake to bring her. But we can put up with her for a couple of days. I wish it could have just been you and me." 

"Men are foolish," Shadow grumbled, but followed Blair back to the fire. 

That evening, after a strained meal that Blair prepared and Samantha complained about, Blair banked up the fire with some logs and readied himself for bed. Shadow had made himself a wallow near the fire, and Blair brushed him, something they both enjoyed. "You'll have to be careful starting tomorrow, you know," he murmured to the wolf. "In Cascadia, unlike at home, wolves are considered fair game. If I tell you to hide, you hide. Right?" 

On his back and wriggling in pleasure from being brushed, Shadow didn't reply. Blair knew the wolf too well, however, and stopped brushing. "Right, Shadow? I need you to promise, my friend. I won't risk you." 

Sighing, Shadow rolled back over and shook himself. He looked into Blair's eyes, and what he saw there must have convinced him, for he immediately flopped back down and raised his chin, the wolfly gesture of agreement and submission. Blair hugged him and gave him one last swipe with the brush before retiring to the 'tent' for the evening. Samantha seemed to already be asleep as he wrapped himself in his blankets and prepared for sleep. 

* * *

Shadow woke Blair before the sun was fully up the next morning. Bleary-eyed, Blair stumbled down to the stream for a hasty wash and a bucket-full of water for tea. "Sam," he called, his voice still raspy. "Wake up, Sam." 

Lifting her head up, Sam looked around, her eyes dazed. "I'll have my tea and a crumpet in bed," she murmured before lying back down. 

Blair rolled his eyes -- he couldn't tell if she'd forgotten where she was or if she truly expected him to wait on her. "You can have tea when the water boils, but the only bread you'll get is a hard baguette," he said briskly. "Shadow found some late berries; we're going to go get them. Be right back." 

When he returned a few minutes later, a small bag full of ripe, sun-warmed blackberries in his hand, he found a furious Sam at the fire. "How _dare_ you leave me alone!" she stormed. "Anything could have happened! I could have been _assaulted_! We're in the middle of _nowhere_!" 

"Sam!" he had to shout to be heard over her ranting. "Knock it off already! Number one, there's no one around for miles, and number two, Shadow and I were just across the stream, picking your ladyship's breakfast! What is _with_ you, anyway?" 

Disdainfully, she swept the blackberries from his grasp. "Breakfast? Hardly. They're not even cold, and there's no cream to eat with them. Make some tea, already; I can't wait to get to Cascade and back into civilization." Dropping down to a rock she used for a seat, she wrapped her arms around her middle. "I wish I'd never come," she muttered, looking thoroughly wretched. 

Shadow looked at Blair, his eyes plainly saying, "Your bitch, not mine." Blair shook his head, salvaged the berries, and poured them both cups of tea. "I'm beginning to agree with you," he said, struggling to keep his voice mild. It would do no good to argue with her, since she was obviously not in the mood to be logical. "Why in the world _did_ you come... you must have known we'd be roughing it. There's hardly any inns between here and Cascade." When she didn't reply, he took a sip of his tea and regarded her shrewdly over the cup's rim. "Mother said you'd spent more than a year in school in Cascade. Do you have a swain waiting for you?" 

Her sharp intake of breath was all the answer Blair needed. "Uh, no, of course not," she said, and he knew she lied. "I like the city, that's all. And I do have... friends. Friends there. That's all." She gulped her tea and then watched Blair toss a few blackberries into his mouth. "I guess I'll have some of those," she said, grudgingly. 

The morning set the tone for the rest of the day. When Samantha wasn't ignoring Blair, she was complaining. Shadow melted into the trees or fields to either side of the road, apparently grateful that he had orders not to be seen, since those orders kept him away from Blair and Samantha. On one of her frequent potty breaks -- and Blair figured at the rate they were going it might take a week to get to Cascade -- Blair took his own break and walked into the woods to meet Shadow. The wolf had caught a fat, lazy pheasant and presented it to Blair. 

"You sure you don't want to eat it yourself?" Blair asked, pleased with the gift. 

"Blair cook, Blair eat," Shadow insisted. "Other one too, suppose." His tone was so reluctant that Blair had to laugh. 

"I guess it's a good thing that Mom didn't want me to mate with Sam, huh?" Blair asked his friend, scratching velvet ears. 

"Naomi not pleased with other one," Shadow agreed. "Other one smell bad. Naomi be unhappy. Blair be careful." 

Touched by his friend's concern, Blair hugged Shadow and went back to his horse. 

That evening, they camped by the shore of a lake that was about a day's ride from Cascade. They had passed other travelers by this time, most also on their way to the coronation, and Blair could see other scattered campfires glowing in the darkness. While the pheasant roasted over their own fire, Blair pulled a cloth and some soap from his pack and told Samantha he was going down to the shore for a wash. "If you'd like to go first, I'll be happy to guard you," he offered, hoping that she'd turn him down. 

"Wash?" she asked, her tone incredulous. "In the _lake_? I'd rather wash with warm water, thank you." 

"Sam," he replied tiredly, "if you want to wash in warm water, you'll have to get it yourself and heat it yourself over the fire. It's late summer; the lake can't be that cold, and I don't intend to do more than wash my face, neck and hands. We can wait until tomorrow, when we're in Cascade, for a full bath." 

Her expression outraged, she merely turned her back on him. Sighing, he walked down to the shore and squatted at the lake's edge. The water was indeed almost warm, and after a moment's thought, he removed his tunic and soaped his upper body. Although he longed to take off all his clothes and bathe fully, he knew that it wouldn't be prudent, not without Shadow nearby to stand guard. 

As he rinsed the soap off and began to dry himself, a rustle behind him made him whirl. Sam stood behind him, holding his discarded tunic with one finger. "What are you doing?" he asked, straightening. She backed up, out of his reach, her face inscrutable. "Sam, quit it. I want my tunic back." 

With a vicious smile on her face, Samantha ran back to the fire and tossed his tunic on it. "Sam!" he roared, making a grab for the clothing, but realizing it was too late. The tunic was consumed, and with it, his mother's charm. "What did you do that for?" he demanded, rounding on her. Behind him, he heard a soft rustle and an equally soft growl: Shadow. 

"I did it because I wanted to," Samantha replied, her voice icy. "Because I'm tired of your acting like we're equals -- as if I could be like you! I'm a _proper_ lady, not an ill-mannered bumpkin only born to royalty." She narrowed her eyes at him. "And I did it because I needed to get rid of that idiotic thing your mother gave you." 

"What?" Blair asked, confused and alarmed. "How did you..." His voice petered out as three figures materialized from the darkness behind Samantha. "Sam..." he said, in warning, but she merely turned and smiled at the lead figure. They were men -- two were dressed roughly and practically, and carried several weapons each. The third was wearing more expensive-looking clothes and only carried a sword. 

"Watch out for his pet wolf," she said to the well-dressed man. "Kill it, if you can. It's a nasty beast." 

With a bellow of pure rage, Blair launched himself at her, not even certain what his intentions were, only knowing that she had threatened his best friend. The two men who had hung back stepped forward and caught him easily, though, restraining him with his arms behind his back. "Shadow! Hide!" he shouted, before Samantha slapped him full on the face. Shock made him fall silent. 

"You are such a little _barbarian_ , your Royal Highness," she sneered. "Sleeping under the stars, eating any old thing that stupid dog brings you. You should look to Prince Stephen here as your role model. He understands the true way of royalty." 

Prince Stephen smiled down at Samantha and laid a proprietary arm across her shoulders. "Thank you, milady," he murmured. "So, this is the crown prince, eh? Not much to look at, is he." 

"The letter of introduction is in the saddlebag," Samantha said. "It shouldn't be difficult to alter." She smirked. "Princess Blair -- I like it. You're certain they've never met him?" 

Utterly flummoxed, Blair could only stare at her. "What... Samantha, what are you..." 

"Oh, shut up, Blair," she said. "Isn't it obvious? I'm taking your place. It seems that his Highness Prince James has received a Seeing that the heir to the throne of our pathetic little kingdom will be his guide. Well, I plan on guiding him all right... right into a coma. Then Prince Stephen will become the king, and I..." 

She looked up at the prince with a fatuous expression on her face as her voice trailed off. "You, my little dove," Stephen said, his voice oily, "you will become my queen. Which is just how you want it, yes?" Turning back to Blair, still being held tightly by the other two men, he added, "If he moves wrong, kill him." His eyes cold, Prince Stephen continued, speaking to Blair. "I'd behave if I were you, little prince. One wrong move and your mother will not see the morning." 

A horrified Blair was forced to dress in a ragged tunic by the two guardsmen, who then tied him up and tossed him to the ground. His protestations and arguments died a quick death after Prince Stephen threatened to gag him. Lying near the fire, the two guardsmen out searching for Shadow -- and, Blair devoutly hoped, not finding him -- Blair turned anguished eyes on Samantha. "Sam... why?" he asked, heartsick. 

Her haughty gaze raked over him. "Why? Oh, please, Blair. Because our pitiful little kingdom is no place for a woman of taste, like me. Because -- oh, never mind. I can hardly expect an over-educated little backwoods cretin like yourself to understand." And that was all Samantha would say to him. 

* * *

The next day was a nightmare for Blair. Prince Stephen left them early, not wanting to be seen with them, but his rough warning to Blair was enough to keep him quiet. But it wasn't enough to keep him from thinking... which he did, on the road to Cascade. Blair thought frantically, trying to figure out a way around his predicament. He couldn't believe that Samantha -- a young woman his mother trusted enough to send along with him on the road -- would betray him as she had done. No matter which way he turned and twisted his problem, he could see no way out of it. 

His only consolation was that Shadow was still alive, still following him. Although the big wolf had obeyed his command to hide, he wouldn't abandon his friend, and even though it worried Blair, he felt relieved. 

Prince Stephen had taken his big gray, leaving Blair to walk beside the mule. By the time they reached Cascadia, late in the afternoon, he was footsore as well as heartsore, and he hadn't come up with any ideas. The letter of introduction from Naomi got them an audience with the crown prince, and Blair followed Samantha dejectedly, looking very much the part of an itinerant servant. Prince James received them in a small parlor, along with the Dowager Queen, Grace. He rose from behind a desk cluttered with papers as they entered, greeting Samantha cordially -- and incorrectly. 

"Princess Blair, how lovely to meet you," he murmured over her hand. Samantha gave him a deep curtsey and a brilliant smile, completely ignoring Blair, who stood in the shadows behind her. 

"Your Highness," she said, reluctantly withdrawing her hand. "It is indeed a pleasure and a joy to meet you at last. My honored mother sends her most sincere sympathy for your recent loss, and hopes that all will go smoothly at your coronation." 

At the mention of her 'honored mother,' Blair made an involuntary start and choked back words. James looked up at the noise, and their eyes met. 

Blair's sharp intake of breath was matched by James'. James was clearly the most handsome man Blair had ever seen, and his presence was electrifying, striking a spark deep inside Blair. He knew this was someone he needed to know, and also knew -- there was no way. But there had to be a way. Blair _had_ to meet him. Somehow. 

Following James' gaze, Samantha's eyes hardened. "I forgot you were back there, _boy_ ," she said, her tone one drip away from sneering. "I apologize for my servant's intrusion, your Highness." 

James couldn't take his eyes away from Blair's. "Servant?" he said, blinking in confusion. "He's your servant? What's your name, sirrah?" 

"His name is... _Sam_ ," Samantha said. She spat out the name as if it pained her. "He's just my manservant, and not a very intelligent one either, I'm afraid. He was the only one who could be spared from the harvest -- just isn't much good to anyone. Perhaps your Highness could find a place for him? In the stables, maybe? Some place where he can't hurt anyone." 

Humiliated, Blair dropped his eyes away from James' before the angry tears he could feel could be seen. He _had_ to find a way to get through this -- to meet James, tell him of Samantha's duplicity and save Naomi. He _had_ to. 

* * *

"Close your mouth, James," Grace said mildly to her son. "We are not a codfish." 

"Did you see him, Mother?" James murmured, not even hearing her. His eyes were glazed and continued staring at the spot the lovely young man had vacated only minutes before. "He was... beautiful. Can a man be beautiful?" 

Grace put her sewing down and looked with fond exasperation at her son. "Yes, of course a man can be beautiful; it has been my experience that men also can be quite dense at times. If you don't learn to keep your mouth closed, and keep from grinding your teeth when it _is_ closed, you're going to begin to resemble the mouth-breathing Neanderthal people consider you to be. Yes, he was beautiful. But what did you think of the princess?" 

"The princess?" Bemused, James turned and actually looked at his mother. "Oh, yeah. Princess Blair." He frowned. "Not exactly what I expected, actually. She seems, kind of, well... hard? And I didn't get the sense that she was completely open with us. Did you?" 

Grace tapped her chin with her finger. "No, I got that same feeling. Plus... Well, I could _swear_ that Naomi'd had a son. We used to correspond regularly, you know. A lovely woman. This princess... she doesn't look a thing like Naomi or her father. Hmmm... Also, that 'lovely young man' you seem so taken with... I'd wager your father's big toe that he's not a servant." 

"Not much of a wager, Mother dear," James said, smiling crookedly at her. "I -- I'll have Simon find a place for him. Some place safe, where he -- and I -- can keep an eye on him." Mother and son stared at each other soberly for a moment. "There's more here than meets the eye. Something's going on." 

Grace sighed sadly, and agreed with her older son. 

* * *

Simon Banks played many roles in Cascade, for his King. James had recently appointed him Captain of the Guard; he also acted as chief huntsman, groundskeeper -- even, occasionally, as seneschal. Simon had never truly cared for old King William -- considered him too harsh a taskmaster and a poor father. Several years older than James, Simon had been a friend and mentor to the young man, and James looked up to Simon more than he ever had his father. 

It was clear to Simon within five minutes of meeting the Princess's man that he was not a servant, but someone of good breeding and high intelligence -- not that he said much to prove it. The young man kept his head down and answered Simon's questions with monosyllabic replies. But it didn't take someone with Ellis' gift to see how his jaw -- and his fist -- clenched when Simon mentioned Princess Blair. 

And there was another puzzle. Simon, by James' standing invitation, always ate at the high table. He saw the Princess flirt and simper at James and heard her thinly-veiled attempts at seduction. The Seeing that predicted Naomi's heir to be the guide to James had been kept very quiet, but from the way she acted, she seemed to already know about it. Which was clearly impossible. 

Simon also didn't care for the way she looked at Prince Stephen. But then, Simon didn't much care for Prince Stephen anyway. 

The next day, Simon placed the princess's 'servant' -- if that's what he truly was -- with young Rafe, the boy who watched the geese and spelled the other animal caretakers. Rafe was a flighty sort anyway, and Simon had been meaning to put someone on his watch to keep him in line. For several days thereafter, that's how the matter stood; with the coronation so close, neither Simon nor James had enough time to spend unraveling the mystery of Sam, Princess Blair's manservant. 

* * *

"It ain't natural, sir, and I'm tired of it. So I'm requesting either you assign someone else to the geese or put him somewhere else." 

Simon pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping to stave off the headache he could feel brewing. Rafe stood before him, every hair in place; his tunic, freshly pressed and open at the throat, showed off his young form perfectly. How the boy managed to stay fresh, clean and so appealing constantly was a mystery to everyone, and a delight to every single young lady within fifty miles of the castle. 

"All right, Rafe," Simon said tiredly, "tell me exactly what he's doing. Don't embellish anything." 

Clearly affronted, Rafe frowned. "I'd never do that, sir! 'Sides, I don't have to. What happens is weird enough. Every morning, when I go to get him, he's washed himself, and his hair is all wet." Rafe's eyes turned dreamy, and Simon sighed again -- apparently, conquering every female in the vicinity wasn't enough for Rafe, and he was about to start in on the males. "By the time we get the geese out to the field, he's got a pick out, and he sits down on a rock and starts picking out his hair. That's when the weird stuff starts." 

Rafe leaned in and spoke quietly. "He uses magic, sir. He says this rhyme, and the wind comes up, and it blows his hair until it's all dry. It's dry by the time I come back... I mean, it's dry pretty quick." 

Simon looked askance at the young man. "What's the rhyme he uses, Rafe?" 

Rafe colored. "Well, ah... aw, shit. Begging your pardon, sir. Um, he says, 'Blow winds blow, let Rafe's hat go; make him chase it here and there, 'til I have combed out all my hair, and bound it up again.';" Rafe hung his head and swallowed noisily. 

After a moment, wherein Simon silently counted backwards from twenty, he said, "What are you trying to do to him, Rafe?" 

"Nothing!" Rafe's brave front melted before Simon's stern face. "Well, really. I mean, his hair is really gorgeous, and I just want to _touch_ it. It's not like I want to rip it out or anything. Really." Rafe looked earnestly into Simon's face until Simon rolled his eyes and motioned him to go on. "Ahem. Well, anyway, if that's not weird enough, on our way back in with the geese and the sheep, he always detours off into that little copse of woods, you know the one, way down by the low wall around the river garden? And once I saw him... he was with a wolf. I thought it was one of the hunting hounds at first, but you know, the hounds, well, they don't _talk_." 

"He talks." Simon raised an eyebrow. "To a wolf." 

"Yessir," Rafe said, nodding. "I heard it, plain as day -- well, I heard it once. Sorta. But the wolf don't sound anything like Sam. And it was saying something about his mother knowing his fate, and how her poor heart would break." Clearly finishing up, Rafe stood back to attention. "So, it ain't natural. And I don't want no part of it. Sir." 

This time, Simon counted backwards from thirty. In Italian. "I think," he managed to reply calmly, "that if you leave his hair alone, you won't have a problem. But --" he headed off an incipient complaint by holding up his hand -- "I will investigate. Just... just leave his hair alone, all right, Rafe? Good. Now go on with you." 

Rafe hadn't been gone one minute before Simon was up and out the door, heading for James' office. He found his friend and soon-to-be-king buried under a mound of paperwork, but more than willing to set it aside for what Simon had to say to him. 

"He's using magic?" James mused, leaning back in his chair. Simon poured himself and James a tot of whiskey and took a sip before answering. 

"I think you're right about him," he said, sitting in a chair before James' desk. "And I think that little slitch is not a princess -- I swear I've seen her before, but I just can't place her." Taking a deep breath, Simon reluctantly added his last piece of information. "I'm not exactly sure what's going on, but... well... I'm afraid Stephen might be in on it." 

Simon winced as he watched James' face get hard. "Simon, I've told you before, I'll not hear anything..." 

"I know, I know," Simon raised his hands placatingly. "But they've been seen together, James. And why is Stephen so often away from the castle? All right, never mind about that for now -- what are we going to do about Sam?" 

James visibly set his frustration aside, then smiled ruefully at his friend. "I'm sorry I get all bent out of shape about Stephen -- but -- well, you know how father tried to pit us against one another. It's been hard for us -- for him especially. But you're right, Sam takes precedence now." Tapping his lips with his finger, James focused on the mass of papers on his desk. "All this paperwork is driving me crazy... I need a break. Perhaps tomorrow afternoon -- when the geese are driven in -- I'll take a walk. Down by the water garden -- the area's been neglected lately. Don't you think that would be a good idea, Simon?" 

Simon smiled. "An excellent idea, my liege. Just what the doctor ordered." 

* * *

Blair knew it probably wasn't a good idea to use his limited knowledge of magic for such a mundane purpose as drying his hair and keeping Rafe off his back, but the whole situation was so hard on him, he could barely remember his own name. Every time someone called him 'Sam' he had to remind himself to answer. His anger at Samantha and his fear for his mother -- not to mention for his life and that of James -- grew daily. 

He tried to send letters -- to his mother, to friends in the city, to anyone he could think of -- but found them ripped up on his bed when he came in for the night. The message and the threat were clear; he was being watched, at least in his attempts to contact outside the castle. Since he didn't know whom he could trust, aside from Prince James, he felt himself stymied at every turn. 

Shadow was hiding near the castle, and though Blair worried about him, it was probably as good a place as any to be. A better place -- in Blair's estimation -- would be back home, warning and guarding Naomi. But Shadow flatly refused to go; he wouldn't leave Blair, not since he'd heard the threat against his friend's life. In a deep corner of Blair's mind, he was glad, glad of the presence of his friend which reminded him of who he truly was. 

In the evening, just before the sun set, as he and Rafe drove the geese and the last of the sheep and cows back onto the castle grounds, Blair would detour to a dense thicket, a remnant of the woods that once grew near the river that bordered the castle grounds. There, in the shadows, he would meet with his Shadow, and the great wolf would comfort his friend as best he could. 

"Won't you please go back home and warn Mother?" Blair tried again, fighting back tears of frustration as he hugged his friend tightly. "Shadow, I'm so afraid for her..." 

"No," the wolf replied, licking Blair and nuzzling him gently. "Stay with Blair. Must protect from danger." The wolf chuffed and licked Blair again. "Blair should go home. Naomi will be sad." 

"I can't leave, Shadow, don't you think I've thought of that?" Blair said, allowing himself to be comforted. "Even on horseback -- and I don't have my horse any longer -- it takes two hard days to get home. We don't know what kind of message system that rotten bitch has got in place; by the time we get there, Naomi might be dead. I won't risk that. No, I've got to figure out a way to warn the prince, to fight them here. Somehow." He buried his head in Shadow's ruff. "I'm afraid for Prince James. Samantha said..." He sighed. "I've got to find a way to warn him. Perhaps that Simon fellow can be trusted? He seems nice enough." 

"If --" Shadow suddenly broke off and looked up, his ears perking and his back coming up. "One comes." 

"Hide, Shadow! Don't let them find you!" Blair hissed, rising from his place on the ground. "I'll try to come back at moon-rise." 

Shadow melted into the shadows that gave him his name, and Blair straightened his ragged tunic, his heart hammering in his chest. As quietly as he could, he made his way to the edge of the trees, where the path to the castle grounds wound its way alongside an old, crumbling wall. No one appeared in evidence, so, warily, Blair stepped out of the darkness and onto the path. Suddenly, a voice came out of the dimness to one side of him, and Blair whirled. 

"Nice night for a stroll, don't you think?" said Prince James. 

* * *

King William had been about several things -- his own glory and the glory of his line, getting richer, fighting battles, and himself. Not necessarily in that order. Beauty, order, peace and quiet, tranquility -- all those things were 'women's things', not his. But his own grandfather hadn't believed that way, and had laid out beautiful gardens around the castle his own great-grandfather had built. Some of the gardens had been regimented, ordered things with particular color schemes; some had been sprawling things set about with winding pathways and hidden nooks where lovers could meet in secret. Some of them had been small and intimate, where the only way to tell it was a true garden was by the low wall keeping the plants in. During King William's reign, most of the gardens had gone completely wild, overrunning their borders and losing their charm and beauty. 

James had planned to restore as many of the gardens as he could during his reign, finding their peace and calm a balm to his soul. But on this evening, he was actually thankful that his father had allowed so many of them to run amok, since the mess in the water garden served well to hide his presence from anyone passing by. 

As evening fell and the sun set, James watched from the shadow of a hugely overgrown magnolia as Rafe and Sam drove in the geese and the last few stragglers of sheep and cows. Sam slowly dropped back, and before long, he was alone on the path. After a furtive look around, he melted into the shadows of the trees edging the garden wall. James focused his hearing and sight, and watched carefully. 

Rafe hadn't been making up stories -- Sam did indeed meet with a wolf, one who could talk. By the time James heard what he needed to hear, he was smiling and nodding, and devising ways to make the woman who called herself Princess Blair pay for her mistreatment of the true prince. Putting his hand on the wall, he vaulted it easily -- but he landed on a stick, which cracked slightly. The wolf heard and disappeared, but the prince -- the true Prince Blair -- nervously emerged from the woods. 

"Nice night for a stroll, don't you think?" James said, startling the young man. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you." Sam's -- Blair's heart was hammering as James approached him. 

"Y-your Highness?" Blair stuttered, looking around quickly, as if to make sure there was no one else. "Is that you?" 

"Yes, it's me, and I'm alone," James said softly, reassuringly. "Your Highness." 

The look on Blair's face as he realized what James had said would have been comical, if the situation hadn't been so grave. "You -- how did you -- Oh, gods. That's right... you have the Gift! I'd almost forgotten. You -- you heard me. With Shadow. Oh, please, Your Highness, he's harmless, and I've got to warn you--" 

"It's all right," James interrupted. For some reason he desperately wanted to take the smaller man into his arms to soothe him, but he settled for placing his hand on the other's shoulder. "It's all right, I heard everything, and I wouldn't dream of harming your friend. Does he need food? Is there anything I can do for him?" 

Blair slumped in relief, his body under James' hand shaking. "Oh, gods and goddesses. He's fine, he's been living off rabbits and the odd bit of game I can smuggle him from dinner." Straightening, Blair visibly steeled himself and faced James. "Your Highness, as you've heard, I'm actually Prince Blair, son of Queen Naomi, and the woman who has taken my place is Lady Samantha Wellesley, whom I thought to be a trusted courtier of my mother's. She claims to have an agent in my mother's court, someone apparently willing to kill my mother, which is how she's managed to secure my cooperation in this deception. Their plan is to do something to you, I didn't hear or understand it all, but it apparently involves a Seeing involving me and your brother, Prince Stephen." 

James' heart went cold. "My brother?" he said weakly. 

"Yes, sir," Blair replied, scrubbing his face with his hands. "The day before we arrived, Samantha destroyed a protective charm my mother had given me, and met with your brother and two other men. I'm not sure why they didn't kill me outright -- but I think Samantha wanted the chance to humiliate me, but at least I'm alive so I owe her that much. She told me that she plans on marrying your brother once they get you out of the way so that Stephen can be king. Are you all right?" 

Focusing on Blair's words once again, James realized that he was swaying in shock. "Oh, no. No, no. Damn. Shit. Gods! Simon was right," James finally half-sobbed. "I didn't want to believe him. How could he _do_ this to me!" James crumpled to the ground, holding his head, which was throbbing with the pressure of the news he had heard. 

After a moment, he realized there was a gentle pressure rubbing soothing circles on his back, while a lovely voice intruded into his anguish. "I'm sorry, so sorry, James, come back, it'll be all right, please, come back now, I need you." The voice and the hand touching him belonged to Blair, and James realized with a shock that the Seeing was true; Blair would be his guide. 

He looked up finally, realizing both of them were on their knees in the leaf clutter by the side of the path. It was quite nearly dark, but the lingering glow from the setting sun and light spilling from the castle grounds in the near distance allowed him to see well enough. Blair hovered over him, his face a mask of sympathy and concern, his deep blue eyes nearly black in the dim light. Tentatively, Blair reached out and wiped away a tear that had escaped James' iron control, and the tenderness of the action nearly unmanned him. 

"I'm sorry," Blair murmured. "It never occurred to me how the news might hurt you. I was only thinking of myself, of my mother." 

James reached out and took Blair's hand gently in his own, bringing it to his mouth for a soft kiss. He registered Blair's surprise at the gesture as well as his own, but touching Blair felt as natural as breathing to him. "You thought as you should," he said softly. "As anyone would under the circumstances. I owe you a life-debt, your Highness. But even if I didn't, I'd help you. We'll find a way to defeat their plan." 

Those lush lips were parted, and Blair's eyes were focused on James'. "I'm being watched," Blair murmured, not making a move towards freeing his hand. "I've tried to send you notes, tried to send letters home. They're always intercepted." 

"I'll get Simon out here; he's the only one now that I trust implicitly, besides my mother," James replied hoarsely, "and I don't want her involved. We should do it tonight." 

"I told Shadow I'd meet him at moon-rise," Blair said, his breath coming quickly as if he'd been running. 

"That's... that's great," James said. He realized they were both still on their knees on the ground, and distantly he felt the damp of the evening soaking into his clothing. But all his attention was focused on Blair. With his unoccupied hand, he reached out and freed the wealth of curly hair from its restraint and buried his fingers in the mass. Blair closed his eyes and leaned into the caress, murmuring something indistinct. "Hmmm?" James asked, bemused. 

"I -- I should -- I should go in," Blair managed to get out. "Suspicious... don't want anyone to get suspicious..." 

"No, you're right." But neither of them made a move to rise. "Blair." 

Slowly, Blair opened his eyes. He couldn't be seeing very well in the dimness, but James felt the pressure of his regard nonetheless. "James?" he said, softly, hesitantly. 

"The Seeing..." James cleared his throat and tried to get his rebellious thoughts off his feelings and onto more important things. "There's been a Seeing." 

"I -- I know. I heard them speak of it." Blair rapidly blinked his eyes, apparently also finding it difficult to think of other matters. "I'm... something about Naomi's heir. To be your guide." 

"How do you feel about that?" James asked, his heart hammering, his hand in Blair's hair clenching. 

"Nothing I'd want more," Blair murmured, then his eyes sank closed as both of them leaned in toward each other. Just as their mouths met, just as Blair's warmth and taste shot electrically through James' body, a high-pitched squeal resounded from the castle postern-yard. They pulled apart and turned towards the sound, and James sent his hearing out. "It's all right, it's just one of the pigs got loose," he said, his voice shaking. Turning back to his companion, he added, "I'm sorry." 

"Don't be." Blair raised his free hand to his lips and smiled brilliantly. "From the moment I saw you I sensed a connection. This was meant to be." 

"Yes, and I'm so glad," James murmured. Taking a deep breath -- a mistake he realized instantly when Blair's scent flooded his head -- James struggled to his feet, pulling Blair up with him. "I've got to have dinner with several ambassadors tonight," he said, fighting for a normal tone. "But I'll tell Simon to meet us here later, at moon-rise. We can discuss what to do. Between my senses and your wolf, no one will be able to hear us or sneak up on us." 

"Yes," Blair said, swallowing heavily. "Let me go in now, alone. We can't risk them knowing about you and me." 

Reluctantly, James gave up Blair's hand, and with one lingering backward glance, Blair turned and fled to the castle. James lifted his hand to his mouth and breathed deeply, then smiled, the first truly happy smile he'd had in months. 

* * *

Moon-rise was late and it was chilly. Simon met James at the gate to the Queen Mother's private garden. Both men were mantled heavily, and Simon carried a shielded lantern. They moved silently, and since Simon had personally placed every guard on patrol, they easily avoided detection. 

Once they reached the small stand of trees and brush by the river, Simon opened a small hole in his lamp and allowed it to shine at the ground before them. Only James heard the soft, "Over here!" called out, and he led Simon to a tiny clearing surrounded by mounds of brush. At the center, Blair was on his knees, his arms around a huge wolf. 

Simon's eyes widened when he saw the wolf, but to his credit, he made no move toward a weapon. James carefully moved closer to the pair, then sank to his knees and held out his hand. He could see the wolf had his back up and almost hear the snarl deep in his chest. 

"I'll not harm him," James said, steady and low. "On my life. He's to be my guide. I couldn't harm him if I wanted to, and I don't." 

"Shadow, this is Prince James," Blair said softly, introducing them. "Your Highness, this is Shadow, my friend and companion." 

"It is good to meet you, Shadow," James said gravely. "Blair, you've met Simon, I think. Shadow, this is Simon, my friend and companion, as much as you are Prince Blair's." 

Copying James' movement, Simon joined James at the center of the clearing. He carefully angled the lamp so they could just barely see each other, and no light would escape to alert any passersby. "Hello, Shadow. And my greetings to you, Prince Blair. I'm sorry that I couldn't greet you properly when first we met." 

"Just Blair, please, Simon," Blair said, smiling at the big man. "And it was hardly your fault. I didn't know if I could trust you or not." 

"You can, your Highness -- Blair," Simon said, relaxing. "And if you're to be my liege's guide, then my oath to him extends to you. With my life, Blair." He extended his hand, and Blair took it, his face awash in gratitude. 

"Thank you, Simon," Blair replied, letting his hand go. "It's good to have a friend." 

Shadow had been sniffing James during the exchange, examining him cautiously, though not moving closer to him. To Blair's obvious surprise, he suddenly spoke. "Smells of cat," he growled, though the fur on his back had gone down and he no longer snarled. 

"Cat? Oh, Inky," James said. "He's a huge black tom who owns the palace. Nominally, he's my mother's cat, but in reality, he's more the king than I would ever be. I'm surprised he didn't follow us, actually." 

"Did," Shadow said, and looked over James' shoulder. True enough, there was Inky on a low branch, only his green eyes glittering in the darkness. 

"I'm sorry, Shadow," James said sincerely. "If he bothers you, feel free to whap him into next week." Shadow chuffed a sound suspiciously like a chuckle, and after giving the cat one last look, turned back to James. 

"Help Blair," he said, then sank down to the ground, butting his head against Blair's hip. 

"I intend to," James replied, then smiled at Blair. "I told Simon he was right, he knew there was something up, something with... with my brother. But I didn't believe him." 

Behind the light words was a world of pain, and Blair's face mirrored his compassion. "Why would your brother do this, James?" he asked quietly. 

"I don't know," James replied, pulling his cloak off and using it to sit on. He let his actions hide the hurt he knew showed in his face, but when he looked back up, he saw neither of the two men before him were fooled. He sighed. "Father always pitted us against each other. I was the elder, I would inherit, but I was an Ellis' Son, and Father figured that was a vulnerability -- a liability rather than a gift. He made me hate what I was, sometimes. I thought -- well, I thought that Stephen and I were able to put that aside, to band together against him. I guess I thought wrong. I always tried to protect him, tried to make it easier for him. Tried to be a brother to him." 

Blair slid across the intervening distance and wrapped his arms around James' neck. Holding him tightly, he said, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry this happened." 

Surprised, James felt the knot of grief in his middle dissolve before the honest affection Blair offered him, wrapped his arms around the man who would be his guide, and buried his nose in fragrant hair. "Thank you," he whispered. 

Simon cleared his throat noisily, and reluctantly they parted and turned toward him. "James said Stephen's got an agent in your mother's court?" Simon asked gruffly. "Someone who could attack her?" 

"Yes," Blair replied, taking James' hand and holding on. "I have no reason to suspect he's lying. Samantha was one of my mother's courtiers. Her family is noble in my country. I don't know why she would do this." 

"What's her last name?" Simon asked, his brow furrowed in thought. 

"Wellesley," Blair replied. "Samantha Wellesley." 

Simon nodded, grimacing. "Ah, that's it. I thought she looked familiar. I know the Wellesleys, James, Blair. Noble they may be, but honest? Not necessarily. We can't trust any of them." 

Rising to his feet, Simon began to pace, obviously thinking hard. James tugged gently on the hand still in his, and Blair came willingly to his side. The scent of the man was intoxicating, and James smiled down into his face, drinking in his presence. "I hate to break this up," Simon said dryly, "but we do need to think, here." He smiled at the two men, obviously pleased with something. "I think maybe the best way to solve the problem is to send someone -- with Shadow -- to Queen Naomi as a warning and bodyguard." 

"I've been asking Shadow to do that for days now. He keeps refusing," Blair said, giving the wolf a slightly reproachful look. 

"Ah, but that's sending him alone," Simon said, nodding to Blair's companion. "And I agree with that. If he went alone, he'd be vulnerable to half a hundred threats. However, if we send a trustworthy person with him, that one can protect the queen, while I protect the two of you and rout out the rest of Stephen's henchmen. I suggest my man Henri, whom I trust, to send on this mission, James." 

"I know Henri, he's a good man," James mused, biting his lip thoughtfully. "Blair?" 

"It's two days' hard ride to get home," Blair said, looking anxiously between the two men. "How would we know she's all right?" 

"Shadow could come back," Simon said, shrugging. "I could set someone else on the border to watch for him. Two days there, two days back. The coronation is next week. If they leave at daybreak, we can have everything in place before then." Simon looked over at the big wolf, who hadn't moved but who had been carefully watching each person as they spoke. 

Blair now turned to his friend and asked for his input. "Shadow? What do you think? Go home, with a trusted human, warn Naomi, and make sure the human stays to guard her while you come back to let us know it's safe -- and to guard James and me." 

After a moment, Shadow got to his feet and stretched, shaking himself all over. He ambled over to Simon, who was once again kneeling on the ground, and looked at him carefully. He walked back to Blair, gave him a lick, then turned to James, giving him the same careful once-over. James forced himself to sit quietly and endure that gaze, reminding himself that this being loved Blair, and that Blair would be James' beloved guide. 

Finally, Shadow licked Jim's face -- a huge wet swipe from chin to eyebrow. "Oh, gross," Jim said, laughing as he wiped wolf-drool off his face. Shadow sat on his haunches and grinned at him. 

"James protect Blair," Shadow said. "Tell Naomi." 

Blair launched himself at Shadow, tackling him to the ground and sparking an immediate wolf-wrestle. "Thank you, Shadow," Blair laughed as Shadow kept licking his face. "Thank you." 

* * *

Simon preferred to err on the side of caution, and only tell the full story to those people who absolutely had to know. Henri Brown was one -- a youngish career soldier, Henri had proven his loyalty many times in service to Simon and old King William. He didn't mind traveling with a wolf, and knew the way to Queen Naomi's castle. He was appalled at the plot against Prince James, and his jaw set at the thought of someone threatening gentle Queen Naomi. Simon found another man willing to travel with them, who would stay at the border of Cascadia until Shadow returned. They all left before daybreak, with as little fanfare as possible; Simon was hoping their absence wouldn't even be noticed. 

Blair had to maintain the fiction that he was still ruled by Samantha, so he continued 'working' with Rafe and the geese. But his evenings -- and any other time they could find -- were spent with James, anywhere they could get away without being noticed, learning about each other and learning to love each other. 

For love it was, more than just the love of a Guide for his Gifted. Blair had read about 'love at first sight' and had considered it little more than a fairy tale for children. But here he was, drawn to a beautiful man who was clearly as drawn to him. It was exhilarating; it was terrifying; and the needed secrecy merely added an element of breathless anticipation between their trysts. Though Blair missed Shadow dreadfully, having James with him more than made up for it. 

On the third night after Shadow had left, James and Blair had a midnight picnic on the banks of the river, near the river garden. On the old blanket between them, in the dim light of the shielded lamp, Inky the cat lay stretched, purring loudly as two hands stroked him. The animal had taken an immediate liking to Blair and followed him around almost as much as Shadow had. Blair jokingly called Inky his 'surrogate Shadow', but James told him wasn't so sure it was a joke... Inky had an excellent sense for people, and had never cared for Stephen. James sighed sadly, making Blair turn to him. 

"What is it, love?" Blair asked, lifting his hand from Inky's soft fur to caress James' cheek with the back of his knuckles. 

"It's nothing," James said quickly, but Blair just stared at him and waited, knowing that eventually James would spill. Inky stretched, rose, then climbed the tree they leaned against. James finally chuckled as Blair's eyes remained pinned to him. "I can't fool you, can I?" 

"No, and it's not too early in our relationship to point that out," Blair replied cheekily. "I'm going to be your guide, your Highness, which means you're going to have to listen to what I say." 

"Oh, is that so, your Highness?" James asked. A bemused expression on his face, he tucked one errant strand of curly hair behind Blair's ear. 

"Yes, it is," Blair said, rubbing his cheek against James' hand. 

"Our relationship," James mused. "I like the sound of that." 

"So do I. And you're avoiding the question." Blair's voice was gentle, as gentle as the tug he gave James. James came willingly, and shortly found his head cradled on Blair's lap as Blair caressed his hair. "It's Stephen, isn't it?" Blair asked softly. 

"Yeah," James admitted with a sigh, closing his eyes. "Gods, it hurts, Chief." 

Blair smiled crookedly at the nickname -- James simply refused to call him Sam, but absolutely couldn't call him Blair, especially where they might be heard. Simon told Blair in private that James had a mania for giving people nicknames, and to get used to it. Blair didn't care; when James said 'Chief,' all he heard was 'my love.' His sappiness indeed knew no bounds -- he expected it might wane once the honeymoon phase was over, but didn't hold out much hope for it. 

"I wish there were something I could do to help," Blair finally said, knowing there was not. The dilemma facing James was not one that Blair would wish upon his worst enemy. "Has Simon made any progress on discovering his co-conspirators?" 

"Not much," James replied flatly. Blair's fingers dug into his scalp and neck, massaging and relaxing tense muscles, and James moaned in pleasure. Blair could feel the tension drain out of him, and continued the massage willingly. 

"How about Sam?" Blair asked softly. "She still bothering you?" 

"Oh, you have no idea," James replied dreamily, obviously savoring the massage. "She's been literally following me around, like some kind of sick puppy. She's also been kissing up to Mother, but Mom's too sharp for her. I had to be extremely careful to get away from her today, to come see you. I'm sure my reticence around her is driving her crazy. Which doesn't bother me at all. I can't wait to give that -- give her her comeuppance for treating you so badly." James turned his head slightly, giving Blair another section to work on, and nuzzled Blair's crotch. 

"If everything went well, then Naomi is safe now," Blair murmured, holding back the urge to thrust into the warm mouth breathing on his genitals. "I hope..." 

James reached up and took one of the hands rubbing his scalp, bringing it to his lips. "I'm sure everything's fine," he said, his voice husky. "It may be selfish, but tonight... tonight I just want to think about something else. Something that's just -- well, just us. Nothing that has to do with any conspiracies, treason, or anything bad. Just... us." 

"I can do that," Blair said. James pulled himself out of his soft nest and leaned over Blair, kissing him gently. "Oh, yeah, I can definitely do that," Blair whispered as their lips parted. 

"How is it that I've only known you a few days, and yet you're already as essential as air to me?" James said quietly, looking at Blair intently. 

"I don't know," Blair murmured in reply. "But I feel the same way. I don't want to try living without you, James. Not now, now that I've finally found you." 

James brought his hands up to cradle Blair's face tenderly. The look he bestowed upon Blair was at once so loving and gentle that it nearly stole Blair's breath away. Then James was kissing him, and all rational thought fled. 

Though there was still the faint hint of fall in the air, it was warmer that night, and the stars, through the branches of the tree, were brilliant. James gently laid Blair down on the blanket and twined his fingers through Blair's hair, as Blair wrapped his arms around James' middle and molded himself to James' body. It seemed that James was intent on reducing Blair to a puddle of mush by the expedient method of kissing him senseless, and Blair enthusiastically went along with the plan, welcoming James' tongue into his mouth and becoming lost in the erotic and arousing caresses. 

"You taste so good," Blair gasped as James' mouth wandered over his face, delicately nipping at his earlobes and bestowing incredibly gentle kisses to his eyebrows. How much more powerful must it be for James to taste him, he wondered... James, with his senses that were a gift from a god... James, who was lapping at the underside of his chin and spreading open the collar to Blair's tunic... James, who was now sucking a passion mark on Blair's neck and making fireworks go off behind Blair's suddenly closed eyelids... 

Blair gasped and ground his pelvis into James' hip, convulsively clutching at James' back with his fists. "Gods... James!" he moaned, trying desperately to keep the noise down, lest anyone hear them and go looking. 

James abruptly pulled back and looked down at Blair. "I want to see you," he growled deep in his throat and tugging at the hem of Blair's tunic. "Please. Is it warm enough?" 

"It is now," Blair replied in a breathless tone, nearly laughing in an insane giddiness. James shoved the tunic up and Blair wriggled until his arms were free of it, then shyly tugged at James' tunic. "You, too," he whispered, and with one quick motion, James ripped his own off. They looked at each other in the dimness, letting fingers and hands do as much -- if not more -- seeing as their eyes. 

James carded his fingers through Blair's furry thatch, pausing over his half-hidden nipples, then abruptly leaned down and buried his face in Blair's chest. "Beautiful," he murmured. "So beautiful." 

Blair ran his hands up and down James' broad back, then urged him to turn. When James was on his back, Blair copied his movements over the broad, nearly hairless chest, then allowed his fingers to trail down the well-defined muscles to the top James' leggings. "It's you who are beautiful, my love," he whispered. "Chiseled and exquisite as a marble statue. Like something out of a dream..." 

"No dream," James said hoarsely, rising up and again reversing their positions. He dove down and took Blair's mouth in another heart-stopping kiss while one hand wandered to the tops of Blair's own leggings. "Please," he muttered against Blair's throat while he tugged at the lacings. "Please." 

"Yes," Blair replied, pulling James' head up for another kiss. "Oh, yes." 

That seemed to be all James needed. With another tug, the lacings came undone and with a shove, James freed Blair's insistent and hot erection to the cool night air. Intently, James began kissing his way down Blair's body, pausing here and there to lick or to gently nip. He paused at Blair's navel, then skipped his insistent erection to bury his head and breathe deeply of Blair's essence. Blair heard this odd keening noise long before he realized it was himself doing it -- he had his hands knotted in the blanket in an effort not to move, to thrust, to leap on that beautiful body and simply crawl under all that silken skin... 

James lifted his head for a moment and shook it, as though he were drunk or dizzy. Then he looked at Blair briefly -- his eyes half-lidded in sensuous haze, his cheeks flushed with passion, his lips kiss-swollen -- before turning and swallowing Blair's manhood. 

It was all Blair could do to keep from screaming. He lifted one hand to his mouth and bit down, hard, on his knuckles to muffle his whimpers. All too soon, he felt his climax racing along his nerve endings as James' throat massaged and his tongue caressed Blair's cock. Then James moaned deep in his throat and that was all it took for Blair -- he came explosively, soundlessly shrieking his pleasure to the stars. 

Once the stars stopped spinning and swimming above him, Blair realized that James was once again resting on his chest, nestled up against him tightly. Blair's heart gradually slowed its frantic beat and his breathing dropped down to normal. With great effort, he lifted his hand to rest it on James' broad shoulder and said, "Wow." 

James chuckled. "Thank you." 

Swallowing past his -- for some reason -- sore throat, Blair repeated himself. "Wow." 

Lifting his head slightly, James turned his grin on Blair. "Are you all right?" he asked, only semi-seriously. 

Blair blinked at him. "Wow." Then he grinned. "I think it's your turn," he said, as seductively as he could considering all his bones had been turned to jelly. 

"I think it's too late," James said ruefully. He took one of Blair's hands and brought it to the front of his leggings, which were sopping wet. 

"Wow," Blair said again, then tugged James back down to lie on his chest. "Just from... from..." 

"Uh-huh," James replied, his breath warm on Blair's skin. "I always wondered why Ellis' Gift came to me... I think I know, now. It was so that I could love you -- completely and thoroughly." 

Shaking his head slightly and hearing his brains rattle around, Blair blinked again. "Are you trying to tell me you were born to love me?" he asked, outrage and laughter in his tone. "'Cause if you are, Ellis' Son, then I'm not the only one that needs a sappiness reduction." 

Chuckling again, James squeezed Blair tightly for a moment, then let go. He sat up -- wincing at the mess in his pants -- and pulled Blair up with him. "I love you, Sap," he said, brushing Blair's wild hair off his forehead and kissing his nose. 

"I love you too, Sap," Blair replied. The wind picked up briefly and he shivered, then realized he was sitting on a blanket in a thicket with no shirt on and his pants undone. And he couldn't have been happier. 

* * *

Perhaps it was his happiness that made Blair careless. When he returned to the castle, after having kissed his lover goodnight, he thought he was being as cautious as he normally was. Coming into the postern-yard, he heard voices and slowed down, but feel the need to hide until he identified one of the voices as Samantha's. Then he merely ducked behind a pillar and listened. 

"...Told you, I don't know where he is," she was saying, vehemently, quietly. "If he's escaped, it's due to _your_ negligence, not mine." 

"You little bitch, if you'd let me kill him in the first place..." 

"Don't you _dare_ talk to me that way..." 

"No problems, I have him right here," said a third voice -- unfortunately, directly into Blair's ear. The cold prick of steel on his throat made him freeze, and a rough hand grabbed his arm and pushed him from behind the pillar into the yard. Samantha and Prince Stephen stood there, a man-at-arms holding a lantern behind them, mouths agape as the second man-at-arms propelled Blair to them. He stumbled to a stop before them but before he could even think, the guard had the knife back at his throat and one arm behind his back. 

"Where have you _been_?" Samantha demanded. "You idiot. Do you think we would hesitate to kill Queen Naomi? Were you trying to escape?" 

Stephen's quick intake of breath came just before he stepped forward and yanked at the collar of Blair's tunic. "Goddammit," he hissed, seeing the passion mark. 

Samantha took one look at it and reared back in shock. Then her face hardened. "You've been... with a lover? You?! Who is she?!" 

"Not a she, you idiot," Stephen said, grabbing Blair's tunic in both hands. His face was twisted in fury. "It's Ja-- my brother. Isn't it?! You've been with my brother!" Blair didn't answer, but Stephen must have seen confirmation in his face. He dropped Blair and twisted abruptly away. "Dammit!" He stalked past a stunned and immobile Samantha, then turned on his heel and walked back. "This changes everything." 

Stunned and immobile for a moment, Samantha suddenly reached out and grabbed the short sword Stephen had sheathed at his side. Drawing it, she whirled on Blair, her face a mask of hatred and fury. "I'll _kill_ you!" she ground out, lunging for Blair. 

To Blair's surprise, Stephen stopped her, by grabbing her arms and hauling her back. "Don't compound your mistake, you stupid twit," he growled at her. "If he's been with Ja-- my brother, then they're lovers already. He wouldn't _dare_ put his precious guide in peril. He's our only bargaining chip right now -- since he's probably already warned his mother." 

Slowly, Blair's shock at having been found out wore off, and he realized one important thing -- Stephen wasn't saying James' name. Because, of course, your own name is easily recognized from a distance, and if James heard his name... " _JAMES!_ " he bellowed, then followed it with an immediate cry of pain, as the guard holding him cuffed his head sharply. 

"We've got to get out of here, _now_ ," Stephen said sharply, letting Samantha go to turn to the guard behind him. "Get the horses ready. We're taking him with us." He turned back around to Blair and motioned to the man holding him. "Gag him -- or even better, knock him out. We don't want him able to talk to my brother at all." 

Horrified, Blair twisted in the guard's grip and tried to break free, but Stephen came at him, his fist raised to strike. Before he could take a step, however, an inky black shape leapt from the top of the nearby wall with a hideous screech, landing on Prince Stephen's face. Stephen screamed and raised his hands to try and pull the cat off him, stumbling back then forward... 

...directly onto the blade Samantha still carried. 

Inky, having nearly clawed Prince Stephen's eyes out, jumped down and away, scampering out of sight. The five people present stood frozen, Stephen's eyes looking down to his middle where the blade protruded, Samantha's eyes wide with shock. It was this tableau that James and Simon saw as they rounded the corner to the postern-yard, at a dead run. 

Samantha jumped at James' anguished cry of "No!" and wrenched her hand -- wet with Stephen's blood -- off the blade. Stephen crumpled to his knees, then fell to his side even as James skidded to a stop next to him and gathered him into his arms. "Get the physician!" James roared, and one of the guards who came with Simon scurried off. 

Blair, released from his guard by Simon, slowly joined James on the ground, wrapping one strong arm around his lover. Stephen's eyes were closed, and Blair could tell it was too late; his breath had stopped. James held his brother to his chest, rocking and keening in grief, and Blair held him as tightly as he could. 

* * *

Dowager Queen Grace never did recover from her younger son's duplicity, treason and death, and eventually took Queen Naomi's offer to come live with her. Since Blair and James were married immediately after the coronation (postponed a month for the state funeral James insisted on giving his brother), the two countries were united as one. James had Naomi's castle repaired, and the grain silo at Easton was rebuilt and expanded. The borders were virtually erased, and strong laws against killing wolves were enacted in Cascadia. 

Shadow showed up the morning after Stephen's death, footsore and tired. He felt awful about not being there to protect Blair, but a private conference between him and Inky seemed to make him feel better, aside from the scratch on his nose. Samantha was banished, and her family was forced to pay reparations to the crown for her treason. The other men-at-arms who had served Stephen -- most of them foreign mercenaries -- were escorted to the borders of Cascadia and told not to return. 

The coronation went off without a hitch, and the wedding was small and beautiful. Both mothers sniffed their way through it. Simon stood for James, and Shadow for Blair, something that gave the aged bishop who presided some pause. 

And they all lived happily ever after. Well, except for Inky and Shadow, who lived in detente ever after. 

* * *

Jim grinned at Blair, who sat next to him on the sofa, his mouth hanging open, apparently completely speechless. "Well?" he said finally, when Blair didn't speak. 

"You killed Steven!" Blair accused him, fighting to keep a grin off his face. "I'm telling!" 

"You moron!" Jim threw a pillow at his lover and laughed out loud. "I thought about killing Naomi, but then I thought, nah, I like her too much, and Steven would get a kick out of being evil." 

Blair couldn't seem to get words through his laughter. "You... that... I can't believe you, man!" he finally managed to choke out. "And making Sam -- hey, wait a minute, she wasn't _that_ bad! How'd you suddenly get so creative?" 

"Well, your comment about the original Grimm made me think, so I went and bought a copy of the annotated complete," Jim replied, standing and going to the kitchen to retrieve a couple of beers. He was thirsty after all that talking. "You were right, Junior, the originals are _much_ \-- uh... well, they're a lot different than I remember," he finished lamely. He could feel his cheeks pinking. 

"You've got a copy of Grimm's Complete and it's annotated?" Blair blinked. "You've been holding out on me, man. C'mon, give. 'Sides, it's _my_ turn now..." 

end


End file.
